The Night of the Barroom Brawl
by Gorgolo Chick
Summary: Based on the television series. Jim West gets into a fight while waiting to meet his partner. West fighting - what a concept.


The Night of the Barroom Brawl

Gorgolo Chick

**Disclaimer**: No infringement is intended upon the properties owned by Warner Bros, CBS, CBS-Viacom, CBS-Paramount, CBS-Turner or any CBS affiliate. This work is not for profit.

James West knew there was trouble brewing from the moment he entered the saloon. Its clientele were a rowdy lot, the usual for such a place. But there was a grim group who looked him over when he came in. He'd met their inspection and they'd turned away. Jim made a mental note to keep an eye on this bunch. They were spoiling for a fight, but not with someone who could take care of himself. Still, they might tire of waiting and try something anyway, with him or someone else.

Jim took a table where he could watch them while awaiting his partner. Artie had notified him that he had found the information he'd gone after, and this was their pre-arranged time and place to meet. Jim had arrived early, but Artemus Gordon might, too.

"Oh, wonderful," Jim muttered with a sigh. He winced as he considered the man who had just entered. He seemed a big fellow, open-faced and smiling under a cap and shaggy blond hair. One glance told that this was no brawler.

He plopped a duffle-bag inside the entry and shared with all the good-will filling his light-skinned, sunburned face.

"Good evening to you, gentlemen." His surprisingly high-pitched voice carried a Swedish accent. "A long way I've walked, but glad I am to be here."

"Babe in the woods." Jim sighed as he rubbed one temple and cast a covert glance at the trouble-makers. Several were grinning back, but their expressions were malicious, not welcoming. With a low-voiced comment to his companions and a raucous laugh, one of them got up and stalked across the floor while the cheerful Swede made his way to the bar.

Jim saw the man throw a shoulder forward as he came up beside the Swede, just when the blond man was turning in that direction, mug in hand.

"Oops!" the Swede exclaimed as he stepped back in time to avoid the collision that other man had intended. "I'm so clumsy, I nearly spilled it on you."

"Watch it then, you big oaf," the snarl held surprise at the unexpected failure of his ploy, and his intended victim's cheerful reaction.

"Right," the Swede responded, still smiling. "Can I buy you a drink to apologize?" Possibly a little slow-witted, the big fellow seemed not to realize what the bully was up to. And that innocence seemed to confound the man.

Evidently his companions thought so. Two shoved their way toward the bar. "Hey, Earl," one called out. This guy making trouble?"

The Swede looked at them, his brown eyes going wide. "Oh, no trouble, no," he told them gently. "I don't always be so clumsy, I gladly make it up to all of you."

Anyone with decency would be hard-pressed to pick a fight with this innocent. Decency was not in these men's makeup. Jim could see their readiness to push the situation despite their victim's protestations. Sighing again, he pushed his chair back with a loud scrape in the momentary silence as the rest of the patrons awaited the coming entertainment.

The sound turned the bullies' attention his way, and the Swede stepped back with a baffled expression.

"The man apologized, and he didn't actually spill anything on you," Jim pointed out. "Why don't you leave him alone?"

Their response was typical of the type. Confused by the reaction of their original target, the trouble-makers were quick to respond to the open challenge from this interloper.

"Why don't you keep your nose out of things, mister?" Out the corner of his eye, Jim saw the rest of the gang getting up.

"I could do that," Jim agreed, as he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his shoulders. "But if you're going to insist on a fight, I might as well get in on it from the start."

This was as much invitation as the rogues needed. Jim darted forward to meet the charging attack of the three at the bar. He ducked a wild hay-maker from the lead man and came up with the force of his momentum behind the fist he planted in the second man's belly. He scowled as a gust of bad breath hit his face. He rebounded and spun into the return attack of the first man, side stepped, caught an oncoming shoulder, and used it to fling the attacker directly against his other companion. The pair crashed into the bar, the one Jim had tossed breaking through its wood facing with his head. The rest were in it now, and Jim rolled with a punch that felt like it could have planted him if he hadn't been able to deflect most of its force. That combatant staggered on, to sprawl at the wide-eyed Swede's feet.

"Oh, my, let me help you up!" The lummox still didn't seem to get it. Jim blocked another punch, ducked one and then planted one of his own across an unshaven jaw. He leapt back to prevent any of the fighters from getting behind him, and caught a glimpse of the Swede trying to heave a man to his feet while standing on that man's hand.

A table was shoved hard right at him, and Jim barely managed to jump up and land on top. From here he dove into the grouped men coming from their table, and took them down en masse. As he rolled to his feet he came up facing toward the bar, and saw the good-willed Swede bending solicitously over the pair still crumpled there. He seemed to be trying to extract the one who's head was still trapped by the splintered boards through which Jim had flung him. The man who's hand had been trod on had a snarl on his face as he grabbed a chair with the other hand and swung it in an arch overhead, aiming it at the Swede's unprotected back. Jim started in that direction, but was brought down by a hand on his ankle. He kicked the owner of the hand squarely in the face, then shot a look toward the bar, to see the Swede somehow standing open-mouthed beside the attacker who had just crashed a chair down squarely on one of his own companions.

Jim jerked his gaze back to the main group of combatants, and saw that they were drawing back. In a moment they would be regrouped and back on the attack. Jim darted to the bar and grabbed the Swede by the arm.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he snapped. "We're just in the way," he added with a flash of insight as the man resisted, looking back at those who were still sprawled on the floor.

With a doubtful "Oh, okay," the blond let Jim drag him out to the street, and trotted along beside his rescuer into a dark side-street.

Jim shoved his companion against a wall and held him there with a hand planted squarely on his chest, while peering cautiously back around the corner to watch for pursuit. "Look, you may not realize it," he said over his shoulder, "but those men wanted to hurt you. You had better get out of here before they decide to come looking for us."

"But don't you get out of here, too?" the response was aggravatingly mild.

"I've got to wait for a friend of mine," Jim responded. "I sure don't want him walking into that hornet's nest without any warning."

"James, my boy, you may consider me warned."

Jim turned sharply around and darted a look into the darkness beyond the Swede.

"Artie?" he called. "Are you there?"

The Swede chuckled in a very familiar tone, plucking Jim's hand from his chest and the cap and shaggy blond wig from his own dark head at the same time.

"I'm right here, Jim," he answered.

Jim could feel his jaw hanging open, and closed it before his partner could make a facetious comment. Finally he shook his head. "Best disguise I've seen yet, Artie." He grinned. "You should go big dumb blond more often."

"Huh." Artemus snorted as he shrugged out of his padded jacket. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to make a robust complexion like mine look this pale? Never mind trying to project extra height, instead of pulling myself in to look shorter and smaller. It was just an experiment."

A sudden thought struck Jim. "I hope you didn't have anything important in that bag."

"What, you mean that?" Artie pointed downward. "I snagged it as you dragged me so rudely out the door." He laughed as Jim shook his head again. "Come on, what do you say we don't wait for those ruffians?" he added. "I've got a lot to tell you, and I'd rather do it somewhere comfortable."

The partners jogged away down the side street in companionable silence.

END


End file.
